


The First Rule

by DarknessAroundUs



Series: Underground Fight Club AU [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fight Club - Freeform, Grad Student Jughead Jones, Implied Sexual Content, Kisses, Librarian Betty Cooper, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22363507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/pseuds/DarknessAroundUs
Summary: Betty and Jughead meet for the second time in an art gallery. The walls are empty. There are no sculptures.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Sweet Pea, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: Underground Fight Club AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639204
Comments: 57
Kudos: 145
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	The First Rule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MotherMaple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherMaple/gifts), [jandjsalmon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jandjsalmon/gifts).



> First off this story is gifted to jandjsalmon and MotherMaple for being amazing and wonderful. It is also for their encouragement of this story in particular, which I approached with a whole lot of self-doubt. 
> 
> This story grew out of my love for absurd underground fighting plot lines. There are two good, but unfinished Bughead stories in this vein, but I really wanted to read a finished one, so despite by complete lack of qualifications, I know nothing about fighting underground or otherwise, I wrote one. 
> 
> Huge thanks is owed to jandjsalmon/Jandy, and KittiLee for doing a spectacular job of beta-ing it and fixing my numerable mistakes. If you spot any errors they are mine, because I had to add one or two details last minute (I'm flawed - forgive me).

Jughead’s been grading undergraduate papers for an hour and a half and he feels like he’s read the same essay on _Romeo & Juliet _ and the reality of love and death fifteen times. Honestly, he thinks he wrote a better essay on the same topic in high school, and the papers he is grading are from seniors.

He glances at the library clock again. It’s five twenty-two. His fight tonight is almost five hours from now, yet his body’s twitching muscles are ready to go now.

Kevin’s sitting across the table. He rolls his eyes at Jughead and says, “Glancing at the clock every sixty seconds doesn’t speed time up.” 

Jughead and Kevin have TA‘d together for two years, and while Jughead doesn’t hate the guy, they are acquaintances more than friends. 

“I just don’t want to be late for this date tonight.” 

“Oh?” Kevin, forever the gossip, is suddenly attentive. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table and says, “Do tell.”

“I don’t believe in naming names.” 

“Just tell me what she looks like.”

“Tall, blond, carries books with her everywhere,” Jughead says, throwing random facts in there as they come to him. “She has green eyes.”

“Oh, I think I know who you are talking about,” Kevin says, a gleam in his eye.

Jughead laughs. He can’t believe that Kevin thinks he knows the imaginary woman Jughead is making up in his head as he goes. That’s pretty absurd, even for Kevin. 

Even though the clock now reveals it’s five twenty-four, Jughead’s willing to admit that he’s done with reading about teenage love, tragic or otherwise.

“I should get going,” Jughead replies, standing up and shoving his books into his bag haphazardly. 

“Good luck.” 

“I don’t think I'll need it.” 

It’s been almost six months since Jughead’s lost a fight, and he knows he’s gotten a little too confident, but he can’t help it. Even when they brought in a big name from out of town last week, Jughead took him down easily.

It’s a twenty-minute walk from the library to his apartment, but Jughead runs the route instead, his satchel hitting him awkwardly as he goes. 

He’s sweaty and slightly out of breath when he unlocks the loft door, only to find Sweet Pea pacing from wall to wall. 

Jughead’s pre-fight nerves are just part of the deal. Ever since he started fighting back in undergrad, he was on edge every time he went into the ring. For whatever reason, walking through the crowd and stepping between the ropes calmed him down better than anything else ever did. 

However Sweet Pea was usually dead calm before the fight. He’d release his nervous energy afterwards, with all-night drinking binges, and beautiful women and men. 

It also helped that Sweet Pea no longer fought himself, and instead coached Jughead, which was a completely different reason for nerves. Being Jughead’s coach sometimes involved giving him stitches, other times it involved yelling at him to climb stairs.

That’s why Jughead’s so surprised to see Sweet Pea on edge now.

“What’s wrong?” Jughead asks, and only then does Sweet Pea seem to notice him, he stops mid-stride and turns towards Jughead.

“You didn’t get the text?”

“What text?”

“From Munroe.”

Jughead shakes his head. Munroe is the man behind the curtain (of sorts, Jughead is fairly certain there’s a man higher up pulling his strings), of the top underground fighting ring in New York.

The underground fighting ring that allowed Jughead to pay off his undergrad debt, and is now putting him through graduate school.

The text must be terrible to have Sweet Pea so on edge. Maybe the cops are finally closing in on the ring, Jughead speculates, although no, that couldn’t be it. Then his terrible imagination jumps to the one conclusion that could be even worse- Jughead could have been kicked out of the club. Although for doing what, he has no clue. 

The only fighter Jughead knew that had been kicked out of the ring was Chuck Clayton, and it had been for featuring his fights on his Instagram stories. Jughead doesn’t even have social media. 

Jughead pulls his phone out and checks his texts. Nothing. It must have bounced.

“What did Monroe say?” Jughead asks.

“You’re fighting the Red Paladin tonight.”

Jughead feels relief lap over his body in waves, “Thank fucking goodness.”

“What?” Sweet Pea says. “Last time you fought him, you broke an arm and twisted your ankle.”

This was true, but in the scheme of things, it hardly mattered. Jughead got injured all the time. Even when he won, he got injured sometimes.

“That was a year ago. I’m stronger now,” Jughead says, and jokingly kisses his own left bicep.

He’s actually not all that confident in his ability to win this fight, but he does know that this is the best possible outcome out of all the terrible ones he imagined. Besides there is even a silver lining, he’ll get to see Nancy Drew again. It's not like he even knew her real name. Nancy Drew was obviously a stage name.

Nancy Drew was the Red Paladin’s equivalent of Sweet Pea, even though it was basically unheard of for a fighter to have a female coach in the illegal circuit - or in the legal circuits for that matter. 

The first time Jughead met Nancy Drew, he had to talk Sweet Pea out of harassing her. Sweet Pea had found her sitting in one of the coach’s chairs and belligerently assumed she was the Red Paladin’s girlfriend.

Jughead could tell from her stance and the clear-eyed glare she had focused on Sweet Pea, that she was sitting exactly where she was supposed to be sitting, and he’d tried to clear up the situation as quickly as possible. 

Somehow, he did it so well that the night ended with Nancy Drew sending a wink his way. That was when Jughead noticed that she had _Love in the Time of Cholera_ sticking out of her City Lights Book Bag. 

His ankle and his arm had been throbbing with pain and still, Jughead had felt nothing but joy for a moment.

Sweet Pea must be catching up with Jughead’s train of thoughts because he suddenly says “You just don’t mind fighting him because of his special ladyfriend.”

Don’t call her that,” Jughead says as he gives Sweet Pea a hard shove. Then, in an effort to change the topic, he declares, “We need to eat.”

“Ok. But we have to talk strategy while we do it,” Sweet Pea says.

The last meal before a fight is always carefully calculated to be light but provide energy. 

Jughead had eaten all the protein he could for breakfast, but dinner’s focus was to provide energy, without causing puking, so naturally, he was still hungry after it

They still had time to kill, so Jughead stretched in the living room while Sweet Pea continues on his long rants about which kind of strategy will work best against the Paladin. 

When they arrive at the abandoned gallery space where the fights being held tonight, Marmaduke the bouncer, nods them in. 

Jughead’s a little different than most fighters in that he only attends his own fights. Still, those happen frequently enough for him to be aquatinted with at least a quarter of the room. He recognizes a few of the high rollers right away, and Sweet Pea’s ex, Fangs, is hanging out near the bar. 

It’s a little more crowded tonight and Jughead figures it has something to do with the fact that the Red Paladin’s based in California. Fresh blood, or at least out of town blood can be exciting. 

Jughead heads back to the dressing room, really the restroom, to change. He opens the door to the men’s room, only to find that Nancy Drew is sitting on the counter by the sinks in a long blue shirt dress. She’s leaning back against the mirrors, and reading A Tale for the Time Being. The hem of her dress is partially hitched up revealing toned legs. 

For a second Jughead feels like he’s walking into a dream, and then the dream is interrupted by two things. 

The first is the Red Paladin opening the stall door and saying “Betts, did you remember the Gatorade?”

The second is Sweet Pea slamming into Jughead’s back with a muffled “Hey man, what the fuck?”

Jughead stumbles awkwardly forward and by the time he’s standing up again, Nancy Drew/Betts has climbed down from the sink, has disappeared the book somewhere, and looks in every way like the picture of composed perfection. 

The Red Paladin is by her side now, his muscles gleaming with a wide smile on his face. Jughead swears Red’s gained 25 pounds since the last time Jughead fought him, but it’s not like they have weight classes. Jughead’s fought and defeated men that had a hundred pounds on him.

“Sorry about telling them your name,” the Red Paladin murmurs low to his manager. 

Although in all seriousness, the stage names are more for keeping track of fighters and their coaches then keeping anyone's identities actually hidden. It’s not like they wear masks.

Sweet Pea, in a twist on tradition goes by his given name, Noah, in the fighting world. Jughead was not inflicting his given name on anyone, and went by Hellcaster (“melodramatic to your bones,” Sweet Pea teased).

“It’s fine, Arch. I’m Betty,” she says to them. The former Nancy Drew smiles while she says it. 

“Glad to meet you. I’m actually Jughead, and this is Sweet Pea.”

Betty raises a skeptical eyebrow at their names but does not verbally question their legitimacy. 

“I’m Archie,” the Red Paladin says, with a grin. “I’m glad to fight you again.”

Sweet Pea made an angry noise behind Jughead.

“I’m glad for a re-match,” Jughead says. “Besides you’re so rarely on the east coast.” 

He doesn’t know much about Archie, in general, besides the fact that he’s LA-based. Jughead flew down there once for a week, and he spent so much time in abandoned businesses, bars and bowling alleys, fighting half-naked guys, that it felt no different than New York really. 

Sweet Pea claimed the scene was more authentic, but what did that even mean anymore?

“We moved,” Archie says. “Betty got a job here.”

Jughead doesn’t know what to make of this statement. It could imply that they are dating, but it also could not. School permitting Jughead would probably move for Pea as well. 

“Congratulations,” Jughead says, and he’s just relieved that Pea remains silent beside him.

“We should give them the room, Arch, if you’re ready to go?” Betty turns to her fighter and gestures to the door.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Archie exclaims as if just now he realizes the context of the situation. “See you out there.”

Jughead just nods as they leave. All the fighters have to sign a contract with Munroe, agreeing to spend at least twenty minutes in the main room before the fight. 

Every fighter has a different approach to this time. Some talk to the high rollers, some talk to their friends and fellow fighters on their nights off. Jughead’s approach is to scowl, and hope no one approaches him.

Jughead’s pretty sure Archie’s approach will be the polar opposite of his. Ten minutes later, after Sweet Pea’s run out of bad names to call Archie (even Pea knows better than to drag Betty into it), Jughead confirms that Archie is as outgoing and friendly pre-fight as Jughead thought he would be. 

Betty is by the ring on one of the chairs reserved informally for coaches. The same position she’d been in when Sweet Pea had confronted her last time. 

She’s not staring at a book now, but into the distance, as if she’s thinking about something. Betty’s one of the few women in the room and the only one not on the arm of a man. 

Jughead’s always known the fight scene was sexist, a bit of a throwback, but Betty’s presence puts that fact under an uncomfortable spotlight.

When Jughead first started fighting in undergrad, he wasn’t in the circuit he was in now. The fights he was involved in were run by college kids and attended by college kids. Attendance at these matches were a solid mix of women and men. 

The more established Jughead became as a fighter, the better he got paid, and the rarer women became at fights. 

Just then a man in a suit with a bow tie approaches Betty and says something. Jughead can’t hear the exact words from this distance, but he can tell because of the man’s gestures and winks, and Betty’s wan expression, that the man is saying the same thing to Betty that Sweet Pea said when he initially met her, namely that she doesn’t belong.

Sweet Pea’s besides Jughead now, an angry look on his face. “That sonofabitch,” Sweet Pea mutters.

“You made the same assumption,” Jughead mutters, although he wants to intervene, he’s just not sure it will help. “Besides, you don’t like her.”

“I don’t like Archie. How could I not like Betty? She’s the first person you’ve had a crush on in ages.”

Jughead would like to deny it, but there’s no point. Sweet Pea and Jughead have known each other since birth and spent most of their time since then together. Their ability to lie to each other is non-existent. 

Across the room, the man in a bow tie is walking away from Betty, a smirk on his face. Betty is flipping the bird at him, discreetly. The fight starts soon after that. 

The first round starts with a bell that Munroe rings, and ends with Jughead’s fist in Archie’s face, blood a sudden gush. 

Because they are both able to walk, they go for another round which ends with Jughead clutching his gut. 

The third round ends with Archie unconscious on the floor, and Betty checking his pulse and pupils. 

Within fifteen minutes of the fight being over, money has changed hands, and Munroe’s cleared the room out except for the fighters, as is his policy. Jughead thinks it’s because he gets a cut from all the after-parties hosted at nearby venues, and doesn’t have to deal with anything as mundane as stocking alcohol. 

Archie’s conscious again and somehow grinning. Betty’s shaking her head. 

“You have chemistry,” Munroe says, as he hands Archie and Jughead their share of the cut. 

Jughead’s always been skeptical about the use of the word chemistry in the context of fighting, but this time he understands it. 

There’s something about fighting Archie that brings out an extra edge in him. It’s as if just being around Archie, coaxes the real Jughead out. 

Usually, he draws on his trailer trash roots in the ring, willing to pull every dirty trick, he learned just to survive, but this time, he’d been more studied, more patient, waiting for Archie to move, to lead and attack. 

“We sure do,” Archie says blowing an exaggerated air kiss at Jughead. He blows the same kind of kiss at their next fight, two months later. Jughead accepts it with a bow, and then they are once again reduced to punches and grappling.

Jughead’s pushing with all his weight against Archie, as the heavier man pushes him backward, inch by inch towards the makeshift ropes. 

From the sideline, Jughead can hear Pea screaming, but he’s not sure what he’s screaming about. Betty’s silent. She seems to know that things shouted in the heat of the moment are lost in the crowd noise around them. Jughead’s heart pounding in his ears. 

Suddenly, Archie lets go and Jughead’s grip on Archie is loosened and he falls back for a moment, and that’s all Archie needs, to get a solid punch in. 

It’s not enough to keep Jughead down, but it is enough to throw him off. 

In the minute between rounds Sweet Pea tells him he has this in the bag, but it doesn’t feel like that. He can’t help but glance at Archie and Jughead in the other corner. Betty’s expression is serious, and Jughead can tell that she’s explaining something, but not what that something is.

Archie approaches the center looking confident.

The next round is three punches in when Jughead hits the mat hard. 

Sweet Pea helps him out and a sweaty Archie is hugging Betty, and Jughead wishes he didn’t feel like passing out.

But he does pass out, for at least half an hour. He’s surprised when he wakes up to see Betty’s face above him, her hand pressing a wet washcloth against his forehead.

“Hi,” Jughead says. The word takes a lot of effort to get out of his mouth.

“Can you see me normally, in full color?” Betty asks, smiling down at him, a loose strand of hair swinging down in front of her eyes. Her cheeks are red like she’s embarrassed or maybe just a little hot. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“The one time I had a concussion when I regained consciousness, the whole world was black and white, grainy like low-quality video.”

“You used to be a fighter?” Jughead’s surprised. He’s seen women fight a few times at openings, and they hadn’t looked like Betty. She has the muscle for it, but she seems too tall, too elegant. But then again, Jughead knows most people don’t look at him with a shirt on and think anything but nerd. 

“No,” Betty laughs “What knocked me out was an icy sidewalk. Hardly an opponent to brag about.”

“The first person to give me a concussion was a 12-year-old girl wearing a My Little Pony t-shirt.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“Ten,” Jughead says. “I’ve never seen the world differently after getting knocked out, like you did.”

Betty checks the pulse on his wrist in a practiced way. He can tell by how calm she is, even now, that she’s used to this. 

“Where’s Sweet Pea?” Jughead asks, only now realizing that the person who usually checks his pulse isn’t even visible. 

“He and Archie started yelling at each other twenty minutes ago. I told them to take it outside.”

“They’re fighting?” 

Betty blushes “I actually think they are dealing with their frustration in other ways now.”

Jughead would be more shocked if he hadn’t seen Pea do this before. Pea’s cycle of attraction often started with anger. 

“Oh,” Jughead says as he tries to sit up. 

The uncomfortable rush of blood to his head forces him back down a moment later.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says. Even though he’s lying down again, he still feels terrible. Like he’s going to pass out any second. His eyes close, and when they open again Betty’s snapping her fingers above him.

“Focus on me,” she says loudly. “Just try to concentrate.”

“On what?” Jughead hears his voice ask. 

“On me. On my voice.” 

“Keep talking then. Tell me how you became Archie’s coach.”

Jughead likes hearing the sound of her voice. There’s something familiar about it, although what that is, he’s not sure.

Betty raises a critical eyebrow, her face is so close to his, he can see every detail of her face. It’s a little overwhelming but mostly in a good way.

“Archie and I grew up together.” 

Jughead had already guessed that much. There was a certain rhythm old friendships had that new ones didn’t.

“Archie’s dad, Fred, was a good one, and yes I know how rare that is,” Betty says. “He died when we were seventeen and Archie got so angry. His mom wasn’t in the picture. My mom took him in, which sounds nice, but it was all about appearances. She made him dinner and kept a roof over his head, but she wasn’t great.”

Betty pauses and Jughead struggles to stay conscious again, she must notice it, because she makes eye contact with him, before starting again.

It’s nice to have a reason to stare in her eyes. To try and name the exact type of green they are.

“Archie had to do something with his anger, so he got this insane idea to start without me, taking on thugs and small time criminals in a mask.”

Jughead laughs. For some reason he doesn’t have a hard time picturing that.

“It was exactly as ridiculous as your imagining. Anyways, I found out about it when he got captured by a thug who knew who he was. I broke him out and we decided that if he was going to continue, he had to become a better fighter. To become a better fighter, we knew you needed a trainer, and obviously we couldn’t afford one. So I started researching how to fight and I became his instead.”

Jughead’s heard lots of stories of how people got involved in the fighting circuit, but even in the context of those stories, Betty’s is one of the stranger ones.

“Why are you still his trainer?” Jughead asks, even though he probably shouldn’t. At this point Archie could afford someone else. It couldn’t be easy on Betty to defend her place in this world, night after night.”

“When Archie’s inheritance came through, he tried working with a few highly regarded trainers. He kept coming back to me. By that point I knew how to fight, and I knew him better than anyone. We’re a team.”

Unspoken but clear was the word family. Jughead got that. 

“So after all that, a friend of Archie’s told him about these underground fights. Archie decided to think of these fights as a training ground. That’s how we started on the circut. They helped with his anger. I was able to talk some sense into him, and he stopped pursuing the vigilante idea.”

Jughead’s feeling a little better now. Not good enough to sit up, but not like he’s going to pass out any second. He felt well enough to talk.

“Fighting was never something Sweet Pea and I didn’t do. We grew up on the wrong side of town, and when we were little Pea was my defender. I always had my head in a book, and he’d help me keep it by beating the crap out of whoever wanted it.”

“When did you become the fighter?”

“During our junior year of high school, Pea was jumped and they broke his leg and his right arm. I had to learn quickly how to defend both of us. Pea told me what to do to get stronger, hit better, and the rest is history.”

“I don’t think so,” Betty laughed. “Defending oneself and one friend is a long leap from being a top fighter in an underground ring.”

Jughead teasingly rolls his eyes. He’s feeling better. “Fine. I mean I have anger issues too. Drunk dad, mother who abandoned me, the whole cliched works. Fighting helped with that. I probably wouldn’t do it now without the payment, but I’d have to take up something else to work the energy off. Running maybe.” 

“Are you feeling up to sitting up now?” Betty asks. “I can help.”

“Sure.” Jughead said, and Betty’s fingers gripped his arm and pulled him up towards her. He feels a temporary rush of blood away from the head, but this time the feeling passes quickly.

Archie and Pea return. Pea’s hair is a mess and Archie’s shirt is torn. It’s awkward, but Pea lugs Jughead into a cab in silence. 

It’s a slow recovery. He has headaches every day for two weeks, and favors his right side so much that even his professor’s notice. 

Jughead keeps wishing he could call Betty, check in on her. He felt so close to her that night when she talked him back to consciousness. 

Archie comes around the loft sometimes. He and Sweet Pea yell and shout. Sometimes they spar, but whenever they close the door to Pea’s room Jughead knows to put his headphones on. 

When he asks Sweet Pea about it, Sweet Pea just shrugs. 

Jughead wants to ask Archie for Betty’s number, he plans to ask every time, but he never actually goes through with it. He chickens out. 

Jughead goes to physical therapy to work on his leg and it helps. Finally, around Christmas, he starts to feel better and in January they train in earnest again, sparring in the loft and running in the park. 

The whole time he aches to fight again. He wants to hurt someone and be hurt by them in return. Just not too badly. There’s something that’s both cleansing and addictive about fighting. It’s an itch that sparring doesn’t scratch.

He allows Munroe to schedule his first fight back in February, with a newbie. It seems like it will be an easy victory which it is, and it feels so good to be back in the ring. Even the cheering doesn’t bother him like it usually does. 

After, Munroe reminds Jughead of the party he’s throwing. Every year Munroe hosts this event where all the fighters attend and the high rollers get to talk to them. It’s in a rental ballroom that probably costs a fortune, but the fancy clothes, and the location, just remind Jughead of prom night in hell. 

It’s a non-negotiable event though. So like every year, he shows up in a rental tux, Sweet Pea by his side, and braces for the worst. 

But the first person he sees after his ID is checked at the door is Betty, hair curled, in an elegant blue gown.

She’s standing beside Archie as he talks to a man whose suit Jughead is sure costs more than his rent. 

Seeing her fills Jughead with hope, but more than that, when she sees him and smiles, he’s filled with joy. 

She leaves Archie’s side and heads over to his. There’s a hug that feels warm, and the lightest touch of lips on his cheek.

“Arch said you’re fighting again,” she says warmly.

“I am.” Jughead blushes. “How are you guys doing?”

“Archie got taken down in record time by a fighter named Rainbow Dash.” 

Jughead can’t help but laugh. “Ouch.”

“How are you?”

“The fighting is fine, but I haven’t read anything decent in ages, and it’s getting to me.”

Betty’s eyes light up, as if he said the magic words. “What have you been reading?” she asks.

“Crime and Punishment.”

“An appropriate title if there ever was one,” Betty jokes with a wink

Jughead’s about to make an inappropriate Dostoevsky joke when an older man, with a ridiculous mustache cuts in and starts talking to Betty as if Jughead is not even standing there.

Archie comes over and starts talking to Jughead about their favorite video game. Jughead welcomes the distraction but keeps an eye focused on Betty. Her arms cross, and he can tell she’s uncomfortable. 

Archie notices Jughead watch Betty, and he tugs on Jughead’s arm, pulling them both further away from Betty and her conversation partner. Jughead doesn’t really want to be any further away from Betty, in case she needs them to interfere. 

From where they are positioned now they can still see Betty, but they can’t hear her. 

“It’s not going well,” Jughead says quietly to Archie. “Should we do something?”

“I know from past experience Betty would prefer to handle this herself.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t worry about it. It will be over in 3… 2… 1.” 

Archie counted down slowly and by the time he got to 1, Betty’s fist was in the air and connecting with the side of the man’s head, causing him to fall to the side and distressing another women standing near them. 

Betty walks towards Archie and Jughead, her lips pressed together in frustration.

“That’s the second year in a row I was propositioned by an asshole like that,” she grumbles with a tired sigh. “I’m done.”

“So is he, apparently,” Archie says with a grin. Jughead can see that the man is still lying on the ground.

“I’m heading off. Jughead, it was lovely to see you.” Betty frowns.

“It’s always lovely seeing you,” Jughead says, only after thinking of a million other things he could have said, but in the moment it’s the only thing that comes to mind. 

A minute later Munroe comes by to ask Archie what happened and Archie says, “She was harassed. You know how much she doesn’t like that. “

“I do,” Munroe says. Then, possibly in response to the look of loathing Jughead sends his way, Munroe ads, “Not from personal experience of course.”

Jughead doesn’t see Betty for a while after that. He’s busy with school and the occasional fight. Once he spots Archie in the crowd, but there’s no sign of blonde hair beside him. 

Then, a book he needs desperately for his thesis, gets sent to the East Campus library instead of the one he thinks of as his. He puts the pick-up off for days. On the last day that they are holding it for him, right before close, he drags himself in. 

He’s sent to the back, and he has to knock on the reference librarian’s door. 

A minute later the door swings open and reveals Betty, hair in a bun, wearing all gray and a pair of glasses, like Clark Kent.

Jughead doesn’t know what to say, apparently neither does she because she’s blushing deeply and waving him in. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks once they are in the confines of her tiny, book-filled, office.

“I’m a grad student, and the book I ordered through interlibrary loan ended up here.”

“Oh. What name is it under?”

Jughead coughs out his given name like it’s an embarrassing secret. Betty doesn’t comment, just goes to one of the many shelves and retrieves it. 

He takes it carefully with both hands. 

“You’re the second person to find me here,” Betty tells him. “The other was a high roller who just happens to be a chemistry professor.”

Jughead did not know who that might be but he’s very grateful that he’s not even vaguely interested in science.

“What did you do?”

“We both followed the first rule and pretended not to recognize each other. It was awkward though.”

Jughead’s just glad she didn’t go that route with him. 

There’s an unspoken division between the people who watch the fights, the people with the money, and the people who actually participate in the fights. 

The people who come and watch are there to see violence and blood without experiencing pain or danger. They get the thrill of taking part in something under the table, without any real danger to themselves.

The adrenaline Jughead feels before and after a fight is on a whole different level. Sometimes, if he goes too long between fights, he feels desperate for the danger of it. 

A voice comes over the library PA and says “We are closing in ten minutes. Please check any and all books now.”

Jughead had forgotten about time completely and sighed. “Oh shit, I should go..”

“Do you have dinner plans?” 

“No,” Jughead answers easily, because eating pizza and watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Pea was less of a plan and more of a default option. He would much rather eat with Betty.

“Do you want to meet me down the block at Mr. Ramen in twenty minutes?”

"uh, yeah… yeah, that would be great.”

There’s a soft smile on Betty’s face, and she says “I’ll see you there.”

Jughead’s waiting by the door when she arrives, her hair down again, a scarf covered in stars wrapped around her neck. 

They eat large bowls of Ramen and follow the first rule of Fight Club by talking about Jughead’s thesis and Betty’s job, the books they love, the books they hate, and the books they disagree on. It’s one of the best conversations, hell, best nights he’s had in years.

Their soup is long gone, and the men behind the counter are shooting them angry looks by the time they leave, and even though it’s cold they go for a walk, and somewhere between school and the park, Betty slips her hand into Jughead’s.

“Is that too presumptuous?” she asks a minute later, sounding every inch the librarian.

Jughead leans down and kisses her softly. A momentary brush, then he asks, “Is this?”

“No.”

Jughead kisses her again, this time it’s a serious press of lip against lip. Even in the cold she feels warm, perfect.

A stranger harrumphs beside them and they pull apart and start walking again, Betty giggles slightly. 

“Can I have your phone number?” Jughead asks.

“Only if I can have yours.”

They exchange contact information in the Hungarian Pastry Cafe, before heading off in their separate directions. Jughead to Queens, and Betty to Harlem. 

Every day they text each other, and twice a week they go out to eat or to the movies or to the gym. 

Three weeks in, Jughead invites Betty over for dinner and she asks if it’s okay if they don’t have sex that night. He’s surprised a bit by her boldness, the clear way she draws the line, but he’s also thankful for it. 

“Yes, of course,” he says. He doesn’t need to know why. If she wants to tell him she will. 

Jughead’s surprised when she arrives with a bottle of wine, cupcakes, and a small overnight bag. 

“I want to sleep here if that’s ok?” Betty asks. There’s a nervous gleam in her eye.

“On the sofa?”

“With you, in your bed.”

He feels a little awkward during dinner which is slightly overcooked spaghetti with meat sauce, but afterwards, they watch Boondock Saints and Jughead teases Betty that this must have been where Archie got his early inspiration and it just feels right. 

Sweet Pea arrives home halfway through the movie and behaves like he hasn’t spent the last month teasing Jughead and sneaking in and out of Betty and Archie’s apartment. 

When they go to bed, Betty is the little spoon, and Jughead, in spite of himself, falls asleep while talking. He’s just that comfortable. 

He wakes up with her turned in his arms and, after a soft kiss to his sleepy lips, she says quietly, “I’m ready now.”

“But…” Jughead doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. She’s the one who told him she wasn’t ready for sex yet. He’s just trying to respect that.

“It’s not night anymore,” Betty clarified. “I’m so used to guys trying for more. It’s taking me a while to adjust to your patience.”

“Oh.” 

She kisses him, then pulls away to take off her sleep shirt. She isn’t wearing a bra under it. It’s a wonderful moment, even in the half-light of morning. 

After, cozy, and humming with something that feels close to love, Jughead presses a kiss against her forehead and says, “Thank you?”

“For what?”

“For sharing parts of yourself with me. I feel so grateful that I get to know the real Betty.”

“I feel that way about the real Jughead, or should I say Fors-”

Jughead cuts her off with a playful kiss. “You should never say that name. I swear it isn’t me. It’s who my family thought I would be.”

Betty nods her head thoughtfully. “My full name is Elizabeth, but I can’t imagine answering to it.”

Neither of them has fully told the other about their family but Jughead can feel that moment coming soon. In the past, it’s always something he dreaded, but with Betty it feels important, good even. 

Jughead’s nights shift again. He and Betty trade apartments every few days. Her name replaces Pea’s at the top of his phone. 

His days stay more or less the same. He trains, he studies, he TA’s, he writes his thesis, and then one day he gets a message from Munroe about another flight. 

That in and of itself is not unusual, it’s par for the course. He has at least one fight a month, usually two. This time though it’s the opponent that makes him nervous. 

The last time he fought the Red Paladin he was terribly injured - but more significantly, the last time he fought the Paladin he wasn’t dating the Paladin’s coach.

When he arrives home, Pea’s similarly on edge about the whole thing, but at least he’d done something about it. 

Pea has already called Munroe and explained that Betty and Jughead are dating. He left him and Archie out of it. Munroe claimed it was too late to change the roster now, but this would be their last fight against each other to avoid future conflicts of interest. 

Archie calls soon after, apologizing for a situation that is in no way his fault. Betty calls as well and says it’s just one night, they’ll be fine.

The fights a week away and Jughead feels on edge, jittery and uncomfortable. Betty seems less on edge, and when Jughead asks her about it she says “Because only one of us in this relationship should be as nervous as you are,” which was thoughtful. 

The fight ends up being in the former indoor pool of an abandoned hotel. It’s more crowded than usual. Jughead’s come to understand that people are invested in a rivalry between him and Archie, one that only exists in the ring. 

For once there are two changing rooms that are actually changing rooms, even though they are in rough shape now, with rats in the corner, and spiders hanging from the ceiling. He and Archie are kept separate before the fight. 

Betty texts him to check-in and wish him luck, but he doesn’t see her, until they are out milling in the crowd. She’s dressed in all black, her golden hair in a simple plait down her back, and she blends in easily with the men waiting for the fight. 

He realizes two things at once. That he loves her, and that this isn’t the time to tell her. 

When the fight starts, the crowd around them feels too close, Jughead is too claustrophobic. Jughead tries to stay focused on Archie, on his solid form moving towards him, but that flash of blond outside the ring keeps distracting him. 

Instead of charging towards Archie, he steps away. It’s not just the fact that he loves Betty that makes this difficult, but he now knows Archie in a way he shouldn’t know an opponent. 

Archie loves marmalade on his toast and is too addicted to video games. He cuddles with Pea in the odd moments they aren’t fighting.

Archie must pick up on what Jughead is thinking because he takes two quick steps closer to Jughead, so he’s almost in punching range, but not quite. Then Archie shouts “Let’s fight like we don’t love each other.”

No one but Jughead can hear Archie over the crowd, but those words zap the tension out of Jughead’s gut in a surprising way, and he’s soon charging forward with a punch and a kick that has Archie flying backward, his body landing with a solid thunk on the floor. 

Archie is up a second later, lunging towards Jughead with his arms outstretched as if he’s going to strangle him. It’s as if Jughead knocked the elegance and planning right out of him. Jughead leaps out of the way at the last second and Archie hits the ropes. 

Sweat is beading its way into Jughead’s eyes and he takes a backhanded swipe as Archie hauls himself up. Jughead can see the way Archie’s chest heaves. He’s struggling to breathe, not from injury but from exertion. 

Jughead’s energy is largely intact. He hasn’t had to move as much, or pick himself up at all. 

Archie waits next to the ropes for a second because the smart thing to do is let Jughead charge him. 

Jughead doesn’t move and soon Archie is screaming and hunched low, charging at Jughead’s body too quickly for Jughead to get out of the way. Jughead ends up on the ground, Archie a solid mass above him. There is no getting up. 

But it was just one blow and, when they both stand, it is clearly Archie who is the weary one, and Jughead lets him burn off even more energy by charging and punching. Jughead dodges and weaves. He lets his lack of bulk work in his favor.

Then, when Archie punches the air, Jughead grabs his fist and twists. Archie’s on the ground a second later staring up at him with glazed eyes. 

The third round starts with Archie, teeth gritted and eyes focused on Jughead’s throat, throwing three punches in a row that connect, but not well, with Jughead’s stomach. 

Jughead throws one solid punch to the throat that has Archie on bent knees, forehead pressed into the ground.

It’s all over and Betty rushes into the ring to check on Archie, but twenty minutes later, Archie’s arm is looped around Sweet Pea and Jughead’s hand surrounds Betty. 

“That was a wonderful fight,” Munroe says. “A classic in every way. Are you sure you won’t consider doing just one more? You could switch coaches for the match.”

“Hell no,” Jughead answers with a laugh.

Munroe shakes his head. “It’s a shame.”

Jughead can’t bring himself to care what Munroe thinks, instead, he and Betty head to her place. 

On the way home, they stop in a park and he says “I love you,” on a bench dedicated to a couple that was married for fifty years.

She returns it with a kiss and then with words. He knew she would. He feels her love every day. 

He showers while Betty makes post-match nachos and they watch Brick on the sofa. Sweet Pea and Archie are at the loft tonight, so it’s quiet, and later, before they fall asleep they are free to be loud.

Then one day he and Kevin are working together in the main library, evaluating essays when suddenly Kevin leans over and says “The girl that’s about to pass us is just your type.”

Jughead scoffs, “How would you know my type?”

“You described it to me once before you went on a date. Blond hair, green eyes, book in hand.” Kevin winks. “This is like your dream girl.”

Jughead looks up and is not surprised to see Betty walking towards them, books in hand, blue coat still on.

This isn’t her library, but it’s not uncommon for her to have to walk between them to pick up books or help fill in when someone’s out sick. Still, Jughead’s never run into her like this.

Betty smiles at Jughead, the one that he’s recognizes to be her I love you smile. 

“Betts,” Jughead says, getting up and wrapping her in a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to pick up some books for our branch.”

Behind Jughead, Kevin loudly clears his throat. Jughead turns so that he can see both Kevin and Betty, and so that they can see each other, and says, “Kevin this is my girlfriend, Betty. Betty this is my friend and fellow TA, Kevin.”

Kevin stands and shakes Betty’s hand and Jughead is struck, not for the first time, with how much better Betty is treated outside of the bubble of fight club. 

“Do you go here also?” Kevin asks.

Betty shakes her head. “I’m the reference librarian at the East Library.”

“Is that how you met?”

It would be so easy to answer that question with a yes, but instead Jughead opens his mouth and, much to his own surprise, says “We met at an art gallery opening.” 

Betty blushes in response to the lie. 

Over the years they end up telling people all sorts of stories of how they met. Sometimes these stories are sweet and involve Ferris wheels and fancy restaurants. 

Other times they’ll be teasing jokes, like the time Jughead tells their new neighbors the first time he saw her she was on top of a mechanical bull. 

Betty gets her revenge by telling their other neighbor that the first time she met Jughead he was stripping at a club. 

It’s all vaguely absurd and they sometimes get caught in these petty lies, but Jughead can’t bring himself to care. 

The only people they tell the true story of how they met are their children. 

They tell Vera when she’s sixteen when they catch her sneaking back into her bedroom at two in the morning.

Gabriel learns the story when he’s fourteen and returns home covered in bruises.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm always grateful for comments!
> 
> If anyone goes on to write a fight club story, and I encourage you to do so, please tell me about it! I don't want to miss out.
> 
> P.S. I have since written a little drabble/plot bunny, swarchie (apparently it's their ship name) story, that you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286956/chapters/53495077 
> 
> It has background Bughead - of course!


End file.
